Driven: Lily Evans Potter
by Fraya Morningside
Summary: TONS OF LOVIN! LILYxJAMESxSIRIUS!
1. Chapter 1

**Characters and HP storyline not mine. I just embellished them. Sorry for typos.**

I'm sick of all those fanfics that illustrate my life as if it were some utterly romantic fairy tale. I did not have any friends named Mary Sue, did not go to a ball dressed in some slutty clothing and did not fall easily into the path that would come to define my story.

_My name is Lily Evans Potter and I am dead._

That is probably what I will be remembered for, kicking the bucket. Funny is it not? You go through life expecting to do great things, but your greatest moment coming at the end seems a bit ironic to me. Not that I am complaining a'tall, I am proud of where my life has lead, the people I have loved and those I have saved because of it. I know that my life has meant something, but I am sure you might be interested to hear some of my not so large accomplishments, to discover some of my less momentous moments.

This is the tale of me. Take it or leave it.

I was born on a cool spring morning, the sun leaking through the closed blinds of my grandmother Evans master bedroom. My mother screamed quite a bit, Daddy paced back and forth across the room while my older sister Petunia (then three) chomped happily on a stick of bubble gum. The earth did not move when I arrived, but things in the Evans house were never the same.

My sister and I never really found the time to get along. Daddy was forever traveling, determined to create for us the life he has always wanted for himself using his shrewd business skills. Mother spent most of her time looking after everyone else what with her endless charities and clubs, she cooked more for the homeless and destitute than she did for her own children. Petunia and I therefore grew up as wards of our grandmother Evans, a stern and orderly woman who had been raised in a very different generation. She insisted that we manage our poise at an early age, discouraging any form of mental advancement. For she believed that no man in his right mind would want to wed a smart girl, _"No man wants a woman who will look him in the eye or worse down on him because she has spent too much time in the library!"_

Luckily for me I made it a point to disobey my grandmother as soon as I was able to talk. Petunia however found my grandmother to be the quintessential guide to life, gobbling up recipes and house management advice like it was the most stimulating material in existence. The two of us did not spend time outside, I was usually hidden somewhere upstairs trying to finish a chapter or two before Grandmother would come searching and Petunia would be far too consumed with memorizing the process of applying the proper foundation to her horse shaped face (how she expected to become prettier putting layers upon layers of crème coloured powder on her face is a mystery I have never been able to solve). We coexisted and somehow life went on like this until I turned eleven.

I was tucked up under the stairwell, in a closet my grandmother had yet to discover, reading about pygmies when I heard a sputtering at the mail slot. Oddly enough my sister looked up from her cooking at just that moment to grab the letter that had arrived before I had the chance to realize what it was. Dusting off her flour-spattered hands on her apron (she had been making heart shaped cookies for her newest beau) she read aloud a letter that read like gibberish. Something about a hog and wizard drifted into my ears, visions of the pygmies I had been reading about mixed with witch hats and I laughed to myself. Petunia looked up at me, puzzlement on her face and shouted for Grandmother. My grandmother read the letter and frowned, _"I always knew you would be trouble. I am not sure what this means, but you will be hearing nothing from me until your parents come home to take care of this. Have you been reading again? You look guilty. I swear you are the worst sort of child, why can you not be more like your dear sister?"_

The two women, forty years different in age stared at me with the same disapproving face (Thinking back on it, Petunia would have made my grandmother a very proud woman, she grew up to be her spitting image, buck teeth and all). I was told to go up to my room and was denied the privilege of reading the contents of the letter addressed to me in favour of tidying up my quarters. It was best not to deny my grandmother so I begrudgingly tromped up the stairs and plopped myself onto my mattress to wait the long hour before my daddy would come home and make clear the status of things. My eyes blinked closed, open, shut, until a few minutes later I was fast asleep.

I woke to the sound of yelling downstairs. Opening my door, I listened through the sliver of the hallway light to get an idea of what was being said. _"I will not allow a freak in this family! Jeremy, she is a disgrace, a disgrace! Who could possibly want a-a witch for a wife! I can hardly get the word out it is so disgusting! How can you be proud? How! What kind of son have I raised! I will not allow this, I will not!"_

My grandmother went on screaming, ranting as she slammed doors and careful not to knock over her antiques in her storming about but angrily enough that Petunia had to dive out of her way more than once. I tip-toed closer to the railing to better view the commotion, just as my father looked upstairs and motioned for me to join him in the entryway. I took the stairs two at a time and huddle in his embrace as I watched my grandmother continue to rave like a mad woman.

Ten minutes later we were bundled into Daddy's mustard coloured car as he turned out of the driveway and out on to the street. _"Well, I hope you gave your grandmother a hug because I am afraid we will not be going back for some time. Lily, you grabbed your letter off the floor from where grandmother threw it, right love?"_

_"Yes Daddy,"_ I said, confused by the significance of the letter and the argument that it had caused.

_"Daddy, is Lily really a freak?"_ Petunia snarled, sending a sneer in my direction. I looked back at her with a loathing that only a younger sibling could manage.

_"Tuny, if I ever hear the word freak spill from your mouth again you will be a very sad young girl. And no, for your information, your sister is not a freak. My Lily, she is a witch!"_ Daddy smiled at me through the rear view mirror his green eyes glowing with pride.


	2. Hogwarts

**Sorry for the typos.**

I took to magic like an old friend. I found the subject inspiring and thrilling. I spent the months before my arrival at Hogwarts studying as much on the subject of the wizardly arts as possible (this is hard when one only has access to materials that can be checked out with a Muggle library card). But that fall with stories of Merlin and Morganna floating through my head I pushed through the magical platform as I waved goodbye to my beaming parents and surly sister to depart for the first time on the Hogwarts Express. My first years at Hogwarts were much like a starving person at the trough of knowledge, I inhaled as much information as possible. I took to practicing the charms and hexes I'd learned in class on my fellow classmates and any inanimate object that happened to be within eyesight. I excelled in my grades and shone in the eyes of my professor's but socially my life was not much more than one big study hall. It was not until my third year that I noticed other people went to school alongside me and not until the year after that I began to notice boys (not that I had much interest at the time though).

I made a point of it to make friends my fourth year at school. I went about it just like I went about studying, plan, think things through and then memorize and get it perfect. However, things do not always fall together as readily as that. I was a Gryffindor, one of the four houses that divided Hogwarts. I was therefore supposed to be brave, but somehow when it came to people I lacked courage altogether. That year a group of boys in my house had made a name of themselves, ruling their fellow classmates and the attention of the teachers with their fiendish pranks and charming intelligence. I had always paid attention to be mindful of their antics, to avoid being involved at all costs, but ideas like that always find a way to be undone.

I was sitting in potions, desperately trying to get my plum-coloured health tonic to turn the rightful emerald shade that was displayed in the pages of my textbook when I heard a whimpering sound behind me. I turned with my best confident expression to quickly reassure the insecure fellow and return to my work without missing a beat. But my thoughtful face was met with a boogey to the face. I screamed, wiping away the snotty green mess now covering the better portion of my face. My expression turned from thoughtful and shocked to enraged as I raised my want to return the favour, but just as I had angrily sputtered out half a hex I heard Professor Slughorn shout, _"That'll be detention for the both of you. How every disappointing Ms. Evans, you're my best student, 'pected more of you."_ To say I was tongue tied would be an understatement, all words had deserted my mouth, dissolved on my tongue as I tried to form a coherent protest.

Later that afternoon I reported to Slughorn's office, a room which I had become familiar with as a I was a premier member of the "Slug Club." But the figure sitting across from me was new, I recognized his mane of black hair, slicked back from his roguish face. There was no mistaking this boogey thrower. Sirius Black, teenage angst I would come to find out emanated from this boy. Half the girls in my year were deeply infatuated with this ass who right now looked very proud of himself despite the frilly pink couch he was currently sitting upon.

_"Why did you do it?"_ I asked in the most civil voice I could muster, _"I haven't crossed your or anything a'tall have I?"_

"Nope, you're just a priss. Can I call you Miss Priss?" Sirius said all of this with such a straight face that even now I can conjure the image and it makes me want to slap him silly.

_"We—"_ I began as Slughorn burst into the office.

_"I'm afraid detention has been cancelled for tonight, it seems that Peeves has decided to set chaos upon the Potions' stock cupboard, everything is fluttering about the room and I can't seem to figure out how to undo the spell, well, until then,"_ and Slughorn maneuvered his overweight self out of the narrow door frame in order to return to his work.

_"Come with me,"_ Sirius said swifly, rather, quickly demanded.

_"Where? What? I have studying to do. And why would I want to go anywhere with a trouble maker like you?"_ I spat.

_"Such cheek Miss Priss,"_ and with a caddish smile he grabbed my wrist and pulled me into one of the many vaulted hallways of the school,_ "See, I set this meeting up. I want you to meet someone, friend of mine who happened to be quick enough to get us out of the mess you've managed to make for us. I'm proud to introduce you to James Potter, potions chaoticer extraordinaire."_

The only thing I can say about my first meeting with my future husband is---I was not impressed.


	3. Awkward

James flashed his signature smile. He was fourteen and already considered himself to be a well-trained ladies man, between his smile and the arrogant smirk on his partner's face I wasn't sure what annoyed me more. "_Hey_," James began, his voice shifting awkwardly on the pitch that plagues all pubescent boys, "_um, I've seen you around before and well, I thought it was time we were properly introduced_," he finished by raking a shaking hand through his messy hair.

"_The boy's bonkers for you_," Sirius kissed the words into the air, that was until he had the wind knocked out of him by James's angry fist. As Black doubled over to catch his breath James moved closer to me, his hands out in a peace gesture, trying to explain and deny all at the same time.

"_He's brainless, don't mind him, bit daft_," James knocked on his own skull as if to better illustrate the issue to me.

"_I am not sure why you have decided to begin pulling your pranks on me, I've never bothered either of you. In fact I've always made a point of it to avoid the both of you and your little clique altogether. I can't believe you would say such mean things to me_," and like the teenage girl I was I began to cry in frustration, confusion, and embarrassment.

Why did I start to cry you might ask. Well, I was fourteen and was new to the whole hormonal thing. Couple that with seriously underdeveloped social skills and I was a train wreck just waiting to happen.

Just then the sound of clicking heels and sweeping robes sounded at the far end of the hall, a busy Professor McGonagall rounded the corner looking stern, "_Potter, Black? Is that the two of you?"_ and as she neared, "_Miss Evans, is that you? What are the three of you loitering about the hall for? Oh, dear, why on earth are you crying girl?"_

Both boys began to try to explain as McGonagall turned on them with a glare and a threat on her face. "_I'll hear no excuses. You two are in detention, I don't mind your pranks and games, but when you sink to hurting feelings for no reason--well, that is to say, I won't have it_!"

She sent a sympathetic look my way and turning one more time on the two boys said belligerently, "_Head back to your room you two, it's getting late and I know you have plenty of transfiguration homework to catch up on. I had best not hear of any more trouble coming from the two of you. And don't forget, detention this Saturday, my office_."

And with that she seemed to disappear out of view as quickly as she'd arrived.

"_Good job Miss Priss, we're friends for five minutes and you've already gotten us into a scrape_," Sirius had a dour expression now, he pulled on his friend's robe and motioned to leave. Apparently I was no longer worth his time.

Potter seemed to have no words and reluctantly he left.

For the next few weeks I avoided the halls and tried not to spend too much time in the common room. I had heard rumours that the "Marauders" (the name of James's group of friends) were known to deliver revenge whenever crossed and oftentimes it was quite severe. Most of my afternoons were spent in abandoned classrooms finishing up my assignments for the following week. One particularly dreary day in February I happened to find myself in the empty potion's classroom, finishing up a rather lengthy essay on werewolves when I heard a sniffle from the back of the room. Curious, I turned around to find the culprit. Finding no one, I turned my attention back to the scroll laid out in front of me. Until I heard it again. This time a bit weary I got up to look around when just then the sniffly head of Severus Snape looked up and in my direction. I recognized him immediately, the both of us had been battling for the best grade in potions for over two terms now. He looked out from between the greasy curtains of his black hair, a snarl on his face. "_Filthy mudblood_," he muttered before going back to scribbling in his potions book.

I was used to racism. Being a muggle born had always been a bit of trouble, sometimes people will find any difference in you they can in order to explain why they're better than you. I remember now meeting one Lucius Malfoy, then a sixth year during my first year at Hogwarts. He had made a great game of picking on me my first few weeks at school by sending his bumbling posse to plague my days with as many taunts as possible. It culminated with him sending me threatening enchanted notes under my bedroom door riddled with threats of hexes and pain which lead to quite a few weeks of detention for him. So when Snape cursed at me under his breath I was not moved.

I began re-reading what I had written, making certain to continue on with my current train of thought when there was a thud as the door to the classroom slammed open. James and his motley crew were standing in the doorway, silhouetted by the light behind them. I gasped a bit, nervous that they had come to exact revenge on me at a time when I was neither mentally nor physically prepared (I'd left my wand up on my bed earlier by accident). But luckily I was not their preferred target.

Snape was.

"_You'd best not try anything funny here, Professor Slughorn has only just left_" Snape threatened, glaring at them.

"_The risk is worth it Snivelly_," James spat back. Behind him Sirius grinned like a jackal as a nervously excited Peter Pettigrew giggled shrilly like a hyena. Remus Lupin, the only member of the gang that I had not properly met stood serenely behind the three, trying to go as unnoticed and remain as uninvolved as possible.

"_Are you trying to get your greasy hands on little lovely Lily here slimy Snape?"_ Sirius viciously asked.

"_You'd best stay away from her Snivellus_," James said in the most mature voice he could muster, "because she's not interested I can guarantee you that. You don't like this twitchy prat now do you Evans?"

I was speechless, but an infuriated Snape who had had too much teasing answered for me, "_I do not have the time for filthy know it all mud bloods like her_!"

I held up my empty hand (not quite realizing it was empty), my mind racing with possible hexes but the chaos that ensued was hex enough as James and Sirius (encouraged by James, but simply wanting a fight) shouted out spells and curses in Snapes direction.

plot to come.


End file.
